All things great and small
by Ridel
Summary: A series of (so far unconnected) Sherlock AU prompt fills. Contains: Wholock - Smauglock - Pocketlock
1. The case of the curious compendium

[REQUEST]

**Wholock: The Tenth Doctor and Watson. A cozy coffee shop with some books :)**

Words: 725

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Donna wouldn't have believed him if he'd told her, but he _did_ occasionally like to take a few minutes off from running helter-skelter and sticking his nose into trouble in favor of sitting still and sticking his nose into a good book. In fact, a couple of regenerations ago he'd preferred books to people, on the whole.

Donna was off visiting her Grandfather today, and he, not fancying another run in with her mother, suggested they met him at the small and cozy cafe he was currently idling in, curled up on a swanky leather chair in the back, reading one of the books from the Tardis Library and occasionally remembering that he had a mug of tea growing cold on the small round table beside him.  
The recent run in with Agatha Christie had left him craving a bit of mystery, and so he'd gathered up a few of her books, along with a compendium of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes stories. (He was a quick reader to say the least, and was more than certain he'd be able to finish all of the material before Donna and Wilf finally showed up.)

He was currently burying his nose in chapter nine of _And then there were none, _when suddenly someone snatched one of his books off of the table.  
The Doctor looked up, one eyebrow raised in incredulous confusion as the man, (Stocky, sandy blond hair, carrying a cane) frantically turned the pages, looking as if he'd seen a ghost.

"Oi! A bit more gently please, it was a gift!" He chastised.

The man looked up at him, expression furious, confused, and to the doctor's highly trained eye, hiding a hint of fear.  
"What the hell is this?" he demanded, brandishing the heavy book in one hand like a weapon.

He couldn't resist the opportunity to be cheeky, after all the man _was_ roughing up one of his favorite collections of human literature. "It's a book! Honestly, I know the schools are dumming down a bit in this century, but _come on."_

"I know what a book is mister." The man growled, obviously not in the mood to mess about with words. "What the hell is _this_." He jabbed a finger at the cover, indicating both the title, and the deerstalker clad, pipe smoking figure under it.

The Doctor was well and truly mystified. Everyone knew about Doyle's famous consulting detective, and even if they didn't there was no reason in the universe to react so strongly on getting aquatinted with the character.

"Er, Sherlock Holmes? Fictitious consulting detective? Penchant for Cocaine?"

"A study in _Scarlet?_" The man muttered, flipping from story to story. "The speckled _band?_ ... Well at least the Hound of the Baskervilles is right".

"Is... There a particular _reason_ the others aren't?" The question was light and curious, but he'd suddenly taken to studying the man more closely. Something was obviously off about this whole conversation, and now the Doctor was edge of his seat engaged.

"I _bloody_ wrote these! Well, not _these." _His brow was creased in confusion and distaste as he skimmed through one of the actual stories.

"Oh, Are you sure?" The Doctor asked, innocent confusion in his tone. "They've been around for a while..." The man flipped the book over, his eyes widening when he saw the list of dates each story was released.

_"1891 to 1905?!" _flicking his wrist, he tossed the book back over to the Doctor, a look of disgust on his face. "I don't know who's sick idea of a joke this is, but it's not funny."

"What Joke? There's no joke! Unless of course _you're_ having a go at _me_." The Doctor protested. Although intrigued, he was unappreciative of the hurling about of his books. "Look, who are you?" He finally asked. The man straightened up a bit.

"Doctor John H. Watson. Former flatmate, blogger and friend of Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective now deceased. Who the hell are _you?"_

"What?" The doctor murmured, eyes like saucers and eyebrows disappearing into his hairline. "No. _What?_" He uncrossed his legs and eagerly motioned to the chair across from him, a goofy grin splitting his face. "Well, John Watson, I'm the Doctor, and I think we ought to talk."

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The first in a series of Sherlock AU prompt fills I wrote up for some of the good folks on Tumblr. :)  
Please, feel free to leave a prompt in the review box if you like! I can't promise I'll write all of them, just the one's that take my fancy, but I'm still open to suggestions! :)

Thanks for reading!


	2. The Dragon thief

[PROMPT]

**Smauglock: Johnbo with a pocket Smauglock getting into big trouble? :3**

Words: 738

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There was trouble, like realizing you'd forgotten your brute of a great aunt's birthday, and then there was _trouble_, like being caught red handed trying to smuggle a pocket sized fire drake past a party of Dwarves who very definitely wanted it _dead_.

Bilbo slowed down, trying to catch his breath and gage how much distance he'd managed to put between himself and his pursuers.

A large lump stirred in his deep coat pocket. "Thief! Why are you stopping?" The firedrakes tiny, humanlike head poked out of said pocket, looking quite annoyed, if not a little frightened.  
"Would you stop calling me that?" The hobbit shot back in a hissed whisper. He glanced around again, hoping there was no one near enough to hear them. He sighed. "I think we've lost them for now. I'm going to see about finding a place to lay low for the night."

"What?!" The tiny dragon pulled himself out of the pocket and scrabbled his way up the coat. "We can't stop here! Not with me stuck like _this_. I won't be able to protect either of us. We need to keep moving!"

"Sherlock!" The Halfling grunted, detaching the dragon from his shoulder, "Or Smaug or whatever you want to be called now, would you just shut up and listen to me?" He glared frustratedly at his companion. The dragon squirmed unhappily in the hobbit's gentle but firm grasp. "I've been running for bloody _hours_. We've got no food and no water. I am _exhausted_. If they're still chasing us then I'm not going to be able to out run them on foot anyway. It's getting dark and I need to _rest_."  
The dragon glowered back, but didn't contend the decision.

Bilbo, John, whoever he was, loosened his grip and turned his palms upward so Smaug, Sherlock, whoever _he_ was, could sit in his open hands. The pint sized dragon huffed, then launched himself into the air, flapping his small wings and hovering awkwardly in front of the towering hobbit's face.  
"And of course none of this would have happened if you'd not _insisted_ on saying goodbye to your new _friends_." The last word was said with a disdainful sneer, which Bilbo did not appreciate. His expression grew hard.  
"Oh well if we're going to be pointing fingers, then maybe if _you _hadn't tried to _eat_ me when I came in I wouldn't have lost the ring, and we wouldn't even need to be running! Or if you want to go further, if you hadn't taken the Dwarves _home_ from them-"

"That wasn't me!" The tiny dragon roared. "Or I didn't _know_ it was me in any case."

"Oh really!" The hobbit shot back furiously. "Well you seemed to remember fairly quickly after you saw me! You couldn't have maybe tried a bit harder _not_ to murder and displace Thorin's people?!"

"I'm a Dragon, John! I'm not a human anymore! Until yesterday I didn't realize I'd ever _been_ one!"

A sudden clap of thunder interrupted the bickering companions. Silence stretched as the sound faded and was replaced by the gentle hiss of falling rain.

"... Right, let's get out of the rain at least. We can shout at each other... Sh-Sherlock?" The little fire drake winced and hissed in pain, dropping clumsily to the stony ground, panting heavily as what looked very much like steam began to rise from its small body.

"C-c-curse this new size." He grunted through chattering teeth. "M-m-my b-b-body can no longer produce en-n-nough heat. U-u-usually rain sh-should vaporize b-b-before reaching m-my skin." The hobbit stared for a moment, dumbstruck, before finally bending down, scooping the trembling dragon up, and shoving it carefully underneath his jacket, holding the minute being against his chest with one hand and making sure it was completely covered by his coat with the other.

For the poor halfling, the dragons skin was uncomfortably hot, even through the layers of his vest, but he felt Smaug curl into his body heat, soaking it up greedily.

"...Th-thank you, John." The dragon muttered grudgingly. The hobbit sighed and began walking again, looking for a dry place to rest.

"Yeah well, I'm still angry with you, but I'm not about to let you go dying again..."  
The odd companions faded into the darkening landscape, a litany of low level complaining the only indication of their presence.

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The Second in a series of Sherlock AU prompt fills I wrote up for some of the good folks on Tumblr. :)  
Please, feel free to leave a prompt in the review box if you like! I can't promise I'll write all of them, just the one's that take my fancy, but I'm still open to suggestions! :)

Thanks for reading!


	3. A Borrower Borrowed

[PROMPT]

**Maybe some pocketlock with Sherlock and Molly. Set in the morgue or somewhere else if you'd rather. :)**

Words: 916

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Sherlock Holmes.  
The name alone could make her blush. The man had been the subject of many a secret daydream, and why not? He was gorgeous, brilliant, and had a baritone voice she could listen to for hours, even if he was dolling out verbal abuse or expounding on ghastly murders.

Of course, the only place the two of them could ever meet was in her fantasies, where she was tall and beautiful and not scared of him at all. But that would never happen, because Molly Hooper was a Borrower, and Sherlock Holmes was a human, and for every inch that she loved him, she was equally afraid.

He'd been to the lab about an hour ago, working away on some project or other, but he'd gone and now the morgue was locked up tight for the night. Slowly, silently, Molly eased her way between the slats of the vent, dropping down onto the shelf below with the tiniest of thumps. She had with her a standard climbing harness and a large borrowing bag containing the pieces of a sterile syringe. Molly was not by any means the only borrower at St. Barts. Lots of Borrowers came to the Hospital to learn, reading from human textbooks and training alongside their unknowing human counterparts.  
It was Molly's job to borrow medicines and chemicals for use in the well hidden borrower section of the hospital. Right now, it was the latter she was after.

She attached the overlarge carabineer to one of the slats, tested it's stability, and walked to the edge of the shelf. She didn't really like being out in the human portion of the hospital. It made her feel smaller than she already was and left her stomach uneasy.  
Still, she let her eyes scan the room below her, trying to imagine what it would be like to work here as a human. She'd get to meet Sherlock, maybe help him with his cases, they could be... She shook her head. It wouldn't matter what size she was. She was mousey and nervous around other borrowers too. He'd never see her, even if she were human.

She sighed, testing her harness again and stepping backward, leaving the ground behind and instead swinging gently in the end of a string. She grunted as she fought for stability, eventually gaining the upper hand and lowering herself down more carefully.  
Her feet had just barely brushed the edge of the destination shelf when she heard it. She gasped, whipping around to stare at the door as a set of thunderous, echoing footsteps stormed their way closer.

_No, nonononono!_ The lab was shut! No one was supposed to be here! Molly's breathing picked up as she panicked, feet scrabbling for purchase on the solid surface below her. She managed to gain her footing just in time to duck behind a large brown glass container when the lab doors burst open, and a human stomped its way inside. She placed a trembling hand over her mouth, praying that it wouldn't hear her, and peeked around the curved glass wall.

It was Sherlock who stood at the table. Of course it was. Who else would have barged in here after hours as if he owned the place?

He didn't bother to take off his coat, or even his scarf as he sat down in front of the microscope. Hopefully that meant he wouldn't be here very long.  
The lab was silent as the man placed something on a fresh slide and slipped it under the microscope. Molly watched as he made a few notes on a pad he'd removed from his pocket, readjusted the machine, then leaned back heavily in his chair with a frustrated growl.

"The brother. Ugh, dull. Can't Lestrade ever give me anything interesting?" Despite everything, the corner of Molly's lip quirked upward.

Sighing deeply, the human stood up, and Molly's smile dropped as she was reminded how small and vulnerable she really was. But it didn't matter so much. Sherlock was leaving, and soon enough she'd be able to finish what she'd come to do and go home.

The human pushed his char back under the table absently, and was about halfway to the door when he finally registered it. He turned, and Molly's tiny heart froze as he seemed to pin her with his quizzical gaze. Her breathing picked up again as he approached her shelf, and only then did she realize what had caught the man's attention. In her panic to get herself hidden, she'd not had time or focus enough to unclip her harness! The strings trailed from the straps over her hips all the way back up to the carabineer attached to the vent.

She shrieked as the string was tugged and she was pulled from her hiding place. She tried to find something to hold on to, but there was nothing that could keep her from being exposed.  
The man hesitated for a moment when he heard the scream, confusion and disbelief temporarily staying his hand, but it was only a flicker of time. Before she could even comprehend that the pause had happened, she was yanked clear off of the shelf, and left suspended before a pair of ice grey eyes.

"Oh," Sherlock breathed, the Baritone which used to captivate Molly now frightening her near to death. "Now _this_ is interesting."

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The third in a series of Sherlock AU prompt fills I wrote up for some of the good folks on Tumblr. :)  
Please, feel free to leave a prompt in the review box if you like! I can't promise I'll write all of them, just the one's that take my fancy, but I'm still open to suggestions! :)

Thanks for reading!


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